Boys Will Be Bugs

Chapter 31: Nightmare

"This was a devastating attack," continued Dumbledore, as heads rose up from their bowed silence. "Fuelled by nothing more than hate and anger. We must, therefore, stay strong in the face of this tragedy. Stay strong against the threat of hate, and not allow Mr Hyslop and his family to die in vain." Remus's brain felt thick with fog. Nothing was registering properly and all he could do was stare unblinkingly at his knees. He couldn't bring himself to look at the others, knowing their own grief would be the tipping point for him, and he'd start sobbing.

Whatever Dumbledore said to finish off his speech, Remus didn't listen. He'd heard it, but it vanished from his memory almost instantly and he didn't care enough to try and remember. They were all dismissed, and somehow Remus managed to drag himself off the hard bench and follow the crowd of students to the dorm rooms. None of the other students cared. The other houses were soon chatting amongst themselves, sad at the thought of a child's death, scared at the thought of muggle attacks, but they'd soon forget within a few days and go back to their lives. Even the Gryffindors who weren't in second year would soon move on. It was just their little class of twelve and thirteen year olds who felt like the entire world had collapsed around them. They weren't used to death, least of all of someone they had been so close to. Someone their age. Remus finally glanced around him, and the grief was paramount. Jethro was his main focus, having been Tobin's best friend, and he looked like he was in a trance. The denial was paralysing him as he walked and he didn't acknowledge anyone, not even Owain who was attempting to comfort him throughout his own sadness. A hand on Jethro's arm that was bluntly shaken off.

Sirius and James and Peter were around Remus as per usual, huddling together to comfort themselves, not talking, but not straying away from each other. Remus didn't know who would initiate conversation first, but he didn't think it would be him. Going back to the dorm room felt wrong, as if he should be doing something else, something significant. Aren't they supposed to acknowledge it? He couldn't remember dealing with a death before, except for a grandfather when he was seven, and in his mind there was a gap between the death and the funeral that he didn't know how to fill. It felt like the funeral should be this minute just to confirm that Tobin really wasn't coming back. Whether Remus would still believe it or not wasn't important, because apparently the gap was filled with going to bed and not speaking.

Everyone needed to deal with their thoughts alone. They needed to work through their immediate grief before sharing it with someone else, and staring at the ceiling of their four poster beds seemed to be the only option. Everyone dealt with the situation differently, and it was only by choice if someone's pain could intertwine with someone else's.

Jethro didn't stick around for long. It was late, almost time for bed but no one would be sleeping. He didn't have an invisibility cloak, or a map, or a group of friends to help on lookout. He didn't care. He simply left wordlessly, and no one heard him return until the early hours of the morning. None of them knew where he had gone, but not even Owain tried to follow him. Remus understood because he usually did the same thing when he needed to be alone. He went off on his own without warning and didn't return until he was ready enough. Jethro was probably in one of the towers, or hiding in the courtyard. Somewhere that no one could bother him. A part of Remus wanted to feel sorry for him, and maybe try to help him, but it was overshadowed by his own protective instincts that only cared about himself and how he needed to deal with the situation. It was funny how self absorbed death could make a person.

Remus curled up under the covers. He couldn't hide under the bed; his usual haunt as a kid when he needed to be alone. That would be much too childish and he didn't want to draw attention to himself in case it prompted someone to speak. He brought the covers over his head and briefly distracted himself by working out if he would suffocate, paranoid that he may fall asleep and asphyxiate without realising it. The paranoia kept the grief at bay for a second, until both started to merge together and became overwhelming enough to finally cause a break in the dam. He kept the covers over his head, forgetting about the lack of oxygen, and cried. He stayed as silent as possible, but his pillow was soon wet. An uncomfortable dampness that cooled his skin and blocked his nose. He really couldn't breathe now, and he really wished he'd taken Jethro's idea and left the dorm. But the duvet was warm and it offered him a slight comfort. He slipped his head out of the covers to allow himself some air, and as he did he sensed the curtains behind him move. He wanted to pretend to be asleep, but what would that look like? Who could possibly sleep at a time like this? He turned round, and he met the familiar face of Sirius, a face he didn't realise he needed right now but he instinctively moved over. Sirius's cheeks were similarly tear-stained and he wordlessly lay next to Remus.